From Me To You
by Open Casket Ceremony
Summary: Abused by his adoptive father, Hitsugaya refuses to speak about his miserable home life to anyone at school. Desperate, Ichigo would do anything to save him. IchiHitsu, rated M for sexuality.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Yay, a new fic! This particular fic is set in the real world, in Karakura town, and you'll have to use your creative mind and imagine that Ichigo, Hitsugaya, & Co. aren't shinigami, just normal teens. Otherwise this story won't make much sense, huh? This fic will be a lot different from anything else I've ever written before, and it's my first M-rated work.

Disclaimer: In no way do I own Bleach, unfortunately.

Here you go. Enjoy _From Me to You_.

* * *

Today was just like any normal day for Kurosaki Ichigo.

He was your average teenager, nothing terribly special about him. Average grades, average height, but, unlike most kids at his school, Kurosaki Ichigo was terribly popular. 

Maybe it was his charisma. That grin of his, that laugh of his, or maybe even that spunky orange hair of his.

But he was in love, in love with someone who seemed to not even acknowledge his existence.

In love with Hitsugaya Toshiro.

The so-called "genius."

Unlike Ichigo, he was anything_ but_ average. He had the top grades of the school, and there was nothing normal about his silver hair, either. A thin, lithe body with a height that was shorter than the average high-schooler. He didn't talk much, and he rarely smiled or made eye contact with anyone. He was well-liked by everyone, and he returned their respect, but one was never sure what he was thinking behind his troubled aquamarine eyes.

Ichigo knew there was something wrong with him.

He could tell that Hitsugaya harbored secrets, secrets that he would never tell anyone, but they got around anyway, and now, much to his humiliation, everyone knew.

He hadn't been brought up very well, Ishida had told Ichigo. Hisfather had been killedwhen he was a small child, and in order to support them, his mother had turned to prostitution. She, too, died early on in Hitsugaya's life. He had only been six at the time. 

He was taken in by his mother's boss, the man who owned the brothel she had worked at.

Now, Hitsugaya referred to this man as "otou-sama," but they felt no sentimental connection to each other whatsoever. He was grateful to have a roof over his head and clothes to put on his back, but he was so ashamed of his "father's" business. Not to mention that the man was an alcoholic.

And Hitsugaya would often come to school with bandages wrapped around himself and bruises staining his skin.

He never explained why.

But Ichigo knew. 

* * *

"Hey, um, Toshiro?" Ichigo addressed hopefully, approaching the white-haired boy a few moments after the bell had rung, signifying the conclusion of the day's classes. "I was just wondering, if you wanted to hang out with me and my buddies later? It's Friday, after all."

Hitsugaya looked up from his books, which he had been putting back into his bookbag. He sighed and replied, "I don't know."

"Whaddya mean by that? C'mon, Toshiro."

"I'm sorry," Hitsugaya answered as he stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "But, more than likely, the answer is no."

"Shame," Ichigo sighed. "Well, I'll keep my fingers crossed, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Mentally cursing, Ichigo retreated to join Ishida, Chad, and Orihime by the classroom door.

"What'd he say?" Ishida demanded.

"He doesn't know," Ichigo answered sullenly. "I guess he's already got plans or something..."

As the remaining students filed out the door, Hitsugaya noted, that, like usual, he was one of the last ones to leave. And he had good reason to want to lag behind, too, if it meant stalling his return "home." Like he could really call that miserable place "home."

He made his way down the sidewalk, contemplating to himself. Ichigo had often invited him places, but he had always turned down the offer for a variety of reasons. Firstly, it would displease his "father," and secondly, it would take away the time that he needed to tidy up the house, make dinner, do his homework, and finish up all the other chores he needed to. He _would_ like to go out someday, he thought, but at this rate, such a thing would never happen.

Presently, he reached a small house, and he stepped up to the front door, inserting his keys into the lock and releasing it with a click, enabling him to swing the door open and step inside.

It was completely dark inside, and completely deserted as well. This was not a surprise, as he usually returned home approximately two hours or so before his adoptive guardian. He flicked on the light switches, removing his shoes as to not get dirt on the tatami flooring that he kept neatly swept. Placing his bag in the living room, he made his way to the kitchen, surveying it with a sigh. The table was sticky with what he presumed to be dried alcohol, so he wiped it down with a damp paper towel, then proceeding to wash the dirty dishes his "father" had left behind. Then, he got the rice going in the rice cooker before sweeping the broken glass, shards of alcohol bottles,off the tile floor and into the trash.

After vaccuming the living room, he returned to the kitchen to use the table for completing his homework with.

As he flew through his math homework with relative ease, a small click from the rice cooker told him that rice was done steaming. He opened it, spooned a small portion of rice into a bowl, ate, and washed the chopsticks and bowl when he was done. It was all like clockwork, but the worst part of his daily cycle was yet to come.

He returned to the table to complete his math homework, and after a few moments, heard the front door swinging open. Cursing under his breath, Hitsugaya's eyes moved to the clock, noticing that his adoptive father had come home a little earlier than usual.

He didn't have to wait long for the man's heavy footsteps to enter the kitchen, along with a whiff of various odors: Sweat, alcohol, women.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything, boy?"

"Welcome home, otou-sama," Hitsugaya answered quietly without looking up from his writing.

"What're you doing?"

"Homework. For school."

His "father" frowned, watching Hitsugaya scrawl numbers and figures upon his lined sheet of paper. "It's a load of bull," he snorted in disgust as he opened the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of alcohol and popping the lid open, seating himself across the table from Hitsugaya and taking a long swig of the liquid. "Just a whole bunch of numbers and confusing shit, so why're you still doing it?"

"Because," Hitsugaya huffed under his breath, "Because I want to."

"You want to?" the man laughed, as if this was actually something meant to be outrageously funny. "What, you want to go to college and everything? You want to grow up and actually be something? Don't want to end up like your ma and pa, huh, kid? Don't want to end up dead on the streets? Don't wanna end up in some whore house, right? I'll tell you what, boy, you're nothing, and you'll never be anything. You're not going anywhere, you hear me? I'll let you finish up high school, since you seem to like doing those stupid math problems, but after that, you're staying with _me_. You owe me, Toshiro. Who was it that took you in when both of your miserable parents died on you? Huh? Answer me if you think you're so smart."

"You," Hitsugaya answered in a voice that was almost a whisper.

"That's right, boy, and don't you ever forget that. You owe me your _life_, and when you graduate, you're going straight to my goddamn brothel with all those other useless sluts and bitches and tramps, you hear me? You're going to make me a couple extra bucks to pay for these damned years that I've been taking care of you."

"Can you shut up?" Hitsugaya demanded in an irritated voice, standing up from his seat angrily. "I'm trying to _work._"

That hadn't been a very smart thing to say.

The man's eyebrows furrowed in anger as soon as the words had come out of his mouth.

"You sit back down right now, Toshiro," he growled dangerously. "You sit back down right this instant and apologize to me. You have no right to speak to me like that."

"Make me," Hitsugaya retorted fiercely, hatred seeping from his voice.

His "father" stared at him stiffly, clenching his fists, before standing abruptly and slapping Hitsugaya across the face.

The white-haired boy said nothing, his hand jumping to his burning cheek. His silence seemed only to infuriate the man even more, and he did nothing to resist as he seized him by the shirt collar, nearly lifting him off clean into the air, before viciously throwing him to the floor. 

Hitsugaya squeezed his eyes shut as his body hit the floor unceremoniously, pain shooting through his entire body. He could feel new bruises forming over the ones that had only just begun to heal.

"What do you have to say for yourself, you little brat?"

He remained silent. 

His adoptive guardian knelt down on the floor next to him, seizing his wrist and gripping it with such vicious force that Hitsugaya had to bite down hard on his own tongue to stop himself from crying out. 

"Still nothing? Forget it, you're just a stupid little slut, and you'll die like that too. Get out of my sight before I decide keeping you alive anymore is a waste of time."

"Don't _touch_ me, you bastard!" Hitsugaya wrenched himself free from the man's grip, stumbling to his feet and fleeing the kitchen, his guardian's shouts still ringing in his ears.

"I'll do whatever I want, bitch!"

Trying to block out his drunken shouts, Hitsugaya stormed up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door tightly shut behind him, locking it as he went. Panting, he stopped only to observe his small excuse for a bedroom, which contained nothing more than a futon, and a closet.

Muttering angrily to himself, Hitsugaya opened his closet, rummaging through it and taking out a small box, which contained a roll of bandages and ointment that he had purchased with his own money a while ago.

He bandaged his freshly bruised wrist, pulling the bindings taught, wincing in pain as he did so. And to think, he thought bitterly to himself, he could be out with Ichigo and his group, instead of having to live through this hell for yet another damned day. 

That was how it was.

Every day, he'd come home from school, make dinner, do his chores quietly and obediently, and finish his homework. Then his so-called "father" would return home, and they'd go through the same routine: They'd argue, he'd get drunk and hit him, or sometimes worse. And all Hitsugaya could do was simply bandage himself up and keep quiet about it so he could return to school the next day with at least a small shred of dignity. 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: This makes me happy! I wasn't expecting to receive so much positive feedback for just one chapter. Anyways, you gusy tell me what you'd like to see in this fic - Blood? Drugs? Unicorns? SEX!? Anyway, if enough people request something, I'll definetely do it.

* * *

Monday.

Back to school, back to work.

Ichigo liked weekends, like the majority of other kids who attended Karakura High, and the new week always meant being buried in more tests, more essays, more homework, and in short, more troublesome work. But there was an upside to school, too.

He'd get to see Hitsugaya.

He wondered if the boy ever noticed him staring, but once he caught sight of him, it was increasingly hard to tear his eyes away. He wasn't quite sure why or what it was, but at any rate, Hitsugaya Toshiro was like a drug to him – He was completely addicted and he couldn't stop thinking about him, craving his presence, wanting to see him. 

This particular Monday was no exception.

As he squeezed wove his way through the crowds of people chattering amongst themselves in the hallway, he caught sight of Hitsugaya. Despite the fact that he was rather short, it was actually a simple task to identify him within the crowd because of his hair.

Not really paying attention to where he was going, Ichigo was entirely unfocused, staring at Hitsugaya as opposed to where he was walking. That was when his eyes caught sight of Hitsugaya's left wrist – It was heavily bandaged. 

"Watch where you're going, Kurosaki!" a passerby shouted angrily as they collided.

"S-Sorry…" 

But he was _still_ unfocused. 

There was something about that bandaged wrist that was bothering him. It wasn't just a normal injury. There had to be something behind it, and he had to find out what it was.

He edged his way past the loitering students, finally reaching Hitsugaya, who was absently scanning an exam that he had recently taken and received back after it had been graded. Ichigo's eyes unconsciously drifted to the top of the paper, where the number 100 was written across the top in bold red letters. Ichigo couldn't help but smile a bit; despite himself, he couldn't help but inwardly swell with pride at the boy's remarkable score. 

"Good morning, Kurosaki."

"Huh!?" Ichigo snapped out of his brief reverie, looking to Hitsugaya's face, which bore an expression that was somewhat confused. 

"Did you want something…?"

"Huh?"

"You've been standing here for at least three minutes. Did you want something from me?"

"Oh…Y-Yeah," Ichigo answered hastily. "There's something I want to talk to you about, I guess." 

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but, um…Hey, Toshiro, can we speak somewhere private?"

"I suppose." 

As soon as he had replied, Ichigo hurriedly grabbed him by the hand, pulling him aside to an empty corridor across from the main hallway.

"I don't want to make you late for class," he started quickly, "So I'm just going to ask you straight out – What happened to your wrist?"

Hitsugaya blinked, hesitating before hastily hiding his injured wrist behind his back, even though he knew perfectly well that Ichigo had already seen it. 

"It's nothing."

"No, it's not! If it's nothing, then you wouldn't need to wear those bandages!"

"I told you, _it's nothing_. I just…I just fell down the stairs."

Ichigo could not believe that Hitsugaya had come up with such an obvious lie. Frowning, he looked directly into his teal eyes, answering in a serious tone.

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you should."

Ichigo didn't seem to buy it for even a second. He reached behind Hitsugaya's back, taking his wrist, earning a sharp hiss of pain.

"Kurosaki! What are you…"

"Relax."

With that said, Ichigo slowly undid the bindings, unraveling the bandages. 

And what it revealed made him inhale sharply.

Several ugly bruises were scattered across his wrist, their dark color contrasting in a grotesque manner with Hitsugaya's pale skin. The bruises were deep, surrounded by small, but deep red gashes, and the markings suspiciously resembled fingerprints, and he assumed that the red marks were the doing of one's fingernails.

"Look, Toshiro," Ichigo murmured, "I know something's going on. Tell me what happened to your wrist. Please. I just want to help you. These are bad bruises, and I should know, my dad's a doctor."

"Nothing happened. I fell down the stairs…"

"No, you did _not_ fall down the damn stairs. Tell me the truth."

"It's none of your business!" Hitsugaya snapped, jerking his wrist away from Ichigo's grip angrily. "I fell down the stairs, and that's all to it! Don't make me repeat myself!" With that, he turned away, starting to leave.

Ichigo seemed a little hurt at this, he hadn't expected Hitsugaya to react so belligerently towards him. 

"Toshiro, wait."

"What?"

"Um, after school today…Would you mind helping me out with tonight's math homework? I don't understand it, and um…It'd be great if you could show me how to do it."

Truth was, Ichigo knew perfectly well how to do it. He merely needed an excuse to get to the bottom of things.

"Fine. At your house?"

"Actually, I was hoping we could do it at yours."

Hitsugaya faltered at these words.

"Fine…But you can't stay that long."

"Why not?"

"You just can't."

"Ah, alright then. Um, after school then, yeah?"

"…Alright."

* * *

"Please take your shoes off before you come in."

"Y-Yeah."

Ichigo hadn't been too surprised at the small size of the place that was home to Hitsugaya, though it was rather suprising how neat it was. 

"We can work in the kitchen. Don't mess up my house."

"Got it."

As Ichigo seated himself at the kitchen table, he noticed that Hitsugaya had busied himself already, setting the rice cooker whilst wiping down the counter at the same time.

"Alright," the white-haired boy sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Ichigo. "Where should we start?"

"Oh, um, it's just all this stuff about double variables."

"It's quite simple," Hitsugaya explained, beginning to scrawl some numbers and figures on a blank piece of paper. "You see, you just add up the equations, like this…And see, you can eliminate one of them so you only have to deal with one. You solve it, and then you put it back in to solve for the second. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Now you try."

Nodding, Ichigo picked up his own pencil and started on the problem that Hitsugaya devised, quietly following his instructions.

"Um, you miscalculated the second column."

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes you did."

"Oh. Oops."

Hitsugaya reached for the eraser as Ichigo did. Hitsugaya's hand got their first, followed a split second later by Ichigo's, who landed on top of his.

Both boys froze.

A steady blush made its way across Hitsugaya's cheeks, and Ichigo could feel his face heating up as well. Hastily, both boys withdrew their hands, proceeding to act as if nothing had happened.

"Um, as you were saying?"

"O-Oh…yes…Well, 25 plus 61 isn't 84."

"Oh, I knew that…"

At that moment, the front door slammed open, nearly causing Ichigo to jump out of his skin and topple out of his chair.

Hitsugaya's hands flew to his mouth in what Ichigo could have sworn was fear.

"I-Ichigo…Quick, get your stuff. You've got to leave. Now."

"Toshiro, what's going on-"

Another deep, rather intimidating voice cut him off abruptly.

"Damn it, Toshiro…Who the hell is this punk and what's he doing in my house!?" 


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Hmm, I wasn't too pleased with this chapter. It was a little...Hitsu-abuse overkill for me. I dunno about you guys, but I wasn't happy at all with how this update came out, so I'm really sorry. Oh, yeah. Attempted rape warning in this chapter.

* * *

"O...Otou-sama..."

Ichigo looked from Hitsugaya's face, which was rigid with fear, to the face of the man who had just entered the room. He was a mean-looking fellow, and he probably acted the part, too, based on Hitsugaya's obvious fear. And he didn't like the feeling the man gave him, either.

"I asked you a question, kid. Who's the punk?"

"Um, this is Kurosaki Ichigo. He's a classmate of mine," Hitsugaya explained hastily. "He, um...He needed help with his math homework, so I just..."

"Classmate?"

"Hai."

"I...I'm sorry," Ichigo cut in quickly. "I know it's a bit rude of me to come to your house without really asking first...And, um..."

"You should leave now, Ichigo," Hitsugaya whispered quietly.

"Erm, yeah..."

Nodding, Ichigo hastily gathered up his papers and stuffed them back into his bag, noting with an uneasy feeling that the man was watching him suspiciously. "Uh, thanks, Toshiro. Thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome."

"See you tomorrow," the strawberry muttered before scurrying out of the kitchen and exiteing the house, closing the door behind him. But he wasn't about to leave quiet yet. Something, perhaps intuition, was definetely telling him that Hitsugaya was in trouble, and he couldn't leave now, of all times. Instead, he crouched quietly by the kitchen window, listening and waiting."

"So. What were you up to, Toshiro? What do you think you were doing, bringing another boy home, huh?"

"He's...He's just a classmate."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Hai."

"And what were you two doing this whole time?"

"I was...um, helping him with his math homework, like I said. He didn't understand how to do it."

"Don't lie to me!" his guardian roared, causing Hitsugaya to flinch. "You useless slut! I bet I know what you were doing! Fucking, huh!?"

_"What!?"_

"You heard me," he growled, "Don't deny it. You were fucking, both of you."

"We were not!" Hitsugaya retorted. "I'm not that low, otou-sama! I would _never_ do something like that!"

"Liar!"

The sharp sound of a slap rang out across the house.

It had all happened so fast.

The man had struck Hitsugaya across the face with such force that he had been sent toppling to the kitchen floor in an undignified fashion.

"O-Outou-sama, I..."

"You want a fuck, you little whore!?"

"N-No! I was only..."

"I don't remember giving you permission to speak!"

The man kicked Hitsugaya in the stomach, earning a sharp cry of pain from the boy. 

"Who the hell do you think you are, Toshiro!? You think you're smart!? You think you can do anything you want to!? You're just like your damn mother!" He kicked him again, and again, viciously slamming his foot into the boy's abdomen as he struggled to get to his knees. 

"S-Stop it..."

Hitsugaya doubled over, pressing his hands to his mouth as he let out a harsh cough, which was followed by a series of more coughs. Despite his efforts to hide the blood that he retched into his hands, the crimson liquid still found its way out from between his fingers and began to drip steadily to the floor, accumulating in a puddle on the tiles.

"What the hell are you doing!? Stop your damn coughing! You're screwing up the floor!"

"I'm sorry, otou-sama, I-"

"Shut up!"

He seized Hitsugaya by the arms, jerking him roughly to his feet, ignoring the fact that fresh blood was staining his hands. "Get up!"

"Otou-sama, please-"

"I told you to shut up!"

Without another word, the man took hold of the boy's silvery hair, proceeding to drag Hitsugaya into the living room in a most unceremonious fashion, before throwing him viciously to the couch with a sudden, violent thrust.

"So, it's a fuck you want, eh, Toshiro!? I'll give _you_ a fuck, since you want it so damn much!"

Hitsugaya's eyes widened in terror, seeing what his adoptive father was doing. Even though his back was turned to him, it was actually quite evident that he was planning something, and he had a terrible feeling that he knew what it was.

"N-No! Stop it!" Hitsugaya screamed as he felt himself being pinned to the couch, unable to rise from the plush coushins. He could feel one of the man's hands pinning both his wrists to the couch, his knees on top of his hips, restraining his movement. His free hand was moving rapidly across his waist, tugging viciously at the material of his pants, tearing the fabric in the process. The boy struggled wildly, but to no avail. His heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes were wide as he desperately tried to free himself. He was about to be violated, he knew it, and as he began to protest again, he felt the man's hand releasing his wrists, instead, clamping over his mouth.

"Shut up! You asked for it!" 

"Get the hell away from me!" he yelped, taking advantage of his freed arms, slamming his hands into his "father's" face, trying with all his might to push him away. "Y-You bastard! Get off me!" 

With an infuriated roar, the man slammed his arm down on Hitsugaya's windpipe, choking him and cutting off his breathing. 

"Listen to me, boy, and you listen well. _I'll do whatever the hell I want to_."

"D-Don't..." the helpless boy choked out, clutching at the arm restricting his breathing, his eyes wide with fear.

His "father" looked coldly down at him, before disgustedly throwing him back onto the floor, getting up and dusting his knees off.

"Fine," he growled. "Fine with me. After all, you'll be worth more to my business if you're still a virgin."

"What are you..."

"From now on," he interrupted, "You won't be going to school anymore. It's a bad influence on you. You'll be working for me. And under no circumstances do I want you to see that Ichi-what's-his-face kid, you hear me?"

"H-Hai, otou-sama..."

Still listening from the outside, Ichigo couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was severely tempted to charge right into the house and beat the shit out of the man that was abusing Hitsugaya, but that would be a foolish move. He'd have to be smart and resourceful, but the plan he came up with could only be put into operation tomorrow.

But he couldn't do it alone.

* * *

"Hey, Ishida. Can you do me a favor? Please?"

"What kind of favor?"

"An important one. Please, please, please, please, pleaaaaase?"

The dark-haired student frowned, adjusting his glasses. "Well? What do you need me to do?"

"Um, well, you see...I bet you've noticed that Toshiro isn't at school today."

"Yeah, I have. I'm not a retard like you are."

Ichigo's eyebrow twitched for a moment as a scowl came over his face, but he had more important things to do than admonish Ishida.

"I need you to come with me after school somewhere."

"Where?"

"Um...Er, well...To a brothel."

Ishida's glasses flashed.

"What the hell, Kurosaki!? You want me to go with you to a _whorehouse_!? What are you, feeling horny today or something!?"

"No!" Ichigo retorted. "You see, I heard that Toshiro's been forced to work there by the guy who adopted him, you know? That's why he isn't there anymore. We've got to help him, Ishida. Please. Just go in there, and request him, then we'll get him out of there and never go back, yeah?"

"I don't know. Sounds like the most freaking perverted plan ever."

"I'm not asking you to have sex with him!" the strawberry snorted. "I just want you to pretend that you want to!"

"I'm not doing something that low-class, Kurosaki."

With a sigh, Ichigo reached into his back pocket, producing a wad of bills. "Look," he snapped. "You can use _my_ money to pay for the costs it'll require. And you can keep all the extra money, okay? _Please_, Ishida. If we don't do anything about it, he'll...You know."

Shifting his glasses again, he snatched the bills from his orange-haired friend's hand, thumbing through them and counting to himself.

"Fine."

A wide grin broke across Ichigo's face as he delightedly hugged Ishida, thumping his back. "Thanks, Uryuu! You're the best!"

"Oi, don't call me Uryuu, baka. I just might change my mind."


End file.
